


Under Your Hands

by AudreyTrevors



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23323867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyTrevors/pseuds/AudreyTrevors
Summary: Sometimes Bash can still surprise Kenna.
Relationships: Kenna/Sebastian "Bash" de Poitiers, Mary Queen of Scots/Francis de Valois (Reign)
Kudos: 27





	Under Your Hands

Her hand was caught in a firm, calloused grip, and Kenna’s gaze drifted up to be captured by the light blue eyes of her husband. “Bash.” 

“Wife,” his smile softened his words, and she smiled back, relaxing her hand in his as he brought it to his lips. “What brings you out tonight?”

She widened her eyes at his teasing words and looked behind them at the spinning couples filling the room. “You know I can’t stay home when there’s dancing to be had.” Kenna gestured to the new gown she was wearing and, for extra emphasis, twirled, showing the way the skirts flared and moved with her figure.

“I do,” Bash pulled her close using the hand he still held, fitting his body tight to hers and she could feel every breath he took. Kenna slid her free hand up to his shoulder, twirling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Were you planning on doing something about that? Surely you aren’t going to let me stand here with no one to dance with.” She raised her eyebrows challengingly. 

“I might have something to say about that.” With no warning, he used the grip he had on her hand to spin her out into the middle of the dance floor. Kenna caught herself before she could crash into anyone and he followed her.

Bash’s body moved with a predator’s grace, speaking more to his years as a hunter than any lessons he’d had in dancing, although she knew for a fact King Henry had made sure his bastard son had received the same training as his legitimate ones. Kenna took a moment to appreciate the powerful movements of her husband’s body, the play of his muscles under his clothes before he swept her toward him again, causing her to let out a light laugh, thrilled Bash was willing to indulge her in this. He so rarely did. He’d never appreciated dancing and other social graces as much as she did. 

Kenna followed his movements and the lines of the dance, spinning and twirling, switching from partner to partner, but always returning to the blue gaze that stalked her every step. The music quickened, and so did their steps, and when Kenna was back in his arms her chest was rising and falling as she breathed heavily. Exhilaration pulsing with every breath. Bash pulled her close as the music ended, kissing her swiftly before stepping back and applauding the musicians as those around them did. 

Kenna stared, gasping, at her husband as he teasingly raised his eyebrows at her, daring her to do something about it. She glanced around them, at everyone who had missed the kiss, and caught Mary’s eye, who definitely had not.

She refused to feel embarrassment at the hard-earned affection her husband had just shown her, and held her queen’s gaze until Mary flicked hers away. A shudder of unease swept through her, and she hated the way Mary’s attention made her feel. Like a young girl again, untried, untested, unwanted. Kenna felt Bash’s warm hand on her arm, drawing her attention back to him. 

“Kenna?” His voice was soft, his real question unspoken, and she shook off her unease. She refused to allow Mary to interfere with this, intrude on this. Not anymore, not when she finally knew Bash loved her. Maybe even more than Mary. 

“Come husband.” Kenna kept her voice bright and happy, another way she refused to let any sign of insecurity show. She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the dancing couples, dodging the flying hands and careless feet of the courtiers who made up the French court. Kenna led him out of the ballroom and away from the noise of the night meant to celebrate six months of Mary and Francis’s marriage. Her steps took them outside, into the courtyard where the quiet tunes of the music could just be heard through the walls separating them from the dancers where she stopped.

Bash stepped up behind her, pulled her into his arms, and rocked her back and forth in time with the music. Kenna closed her eyes and let his warmth fill her, pull her from the melancholy that had threatened to engulf her, the worry that sometimes reared its ugly head. That Mary wouldn’t leave her husband alone. That Bash wasn’t over her. That the tie that existed between them would pull tight once again and cut Kenna in two. That it didn’t matter that Mary had Francis, that she would want Bash too. She allowed her husband’s warmth, his heartbeat under her head, banish the worry away. 

After long, comforting minutes Kenna turned in his arms as a slow, sweet waltz began to play in the background. If she had closed her eyes, she could have pictured the floor clearing, allowing Mary and Francis to hold court at the center of the ballroom, leading them in a slow dance. But she didn’t close her eyes. Instead she stared up at her husband. 

“I want you to think of me,” Kenna said softly, holding Bash’s gaze. “Feel me.” She pulled his hands to her waist and feathered her hands up his arms to Bash’s face. “Only me. Know that this, under your hands, this is your wife.”

It had become something of a mantra to them both. A reminder that they were here, together. There was no one else. Could never be anyone else. A hidden “I love you” when they didn’t have the privacy or the strength to say it out loud. 

Bash smiled at her, only her, and whispered, “I love you,” as he pulled her closer. Pulled her until they were fitted from calf to shoulder, their mouths a breath from each other. She finally closed her eyes as he covered the last distance, catching her mouth in his. She soaked up every moment as if it was the last.

Bash’s lips felt like they left a permanent mark on her, claiming her in a way that made her present like nothing else, caught in this second of time. Made her feel like she belonged like nothing else. His hand drifted up to bury in her hair, clutching at her like Kenna was the very air Bash needed to live. 

It made her feel like she was alive in a way nothing else did or ever would. 

Bash pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, the only space between them. Kenna resisted the urge to whine helplessly and pull him back, drag his lips back to hers. “May I have this dance, wife?” 

The words ghosted across her lips, and Kenna shivered in more than just the chill of the evening air. The utter possession she felt at his words. “Of course husband.”

He slid his hands from her hair to her own fingers, a slow slide that left goose bumps in its wake. He took a half step back, and then moved one hand to her waist, guiding her in a slow, seductive waltz. Bash’s eyes remained fastened on hers the entire time, and he didn’t let any more space between them than the half step. Even as he turned her, letting her hand slide through hers, he kept her close. 

Kenna followed his lead, stepping and circling around each other, and he dropped her hand. His fingers went up to her cheek, ghosting along her cheek, and she closed her eyes, turning her face fully into his hand. The music crescendoed, and then came to a stop, the silence filling her ears as Bash pulled her close. 

“My wife,” he whispered, before kissing her again. She arched up into his lips, tried to physically bury herself in him as she embraced his possessive hunger. His hands gathered in her skirts, and Kenna felt the fabric slide up her leg, slip dangerously close to revealing her to the night. Bash lifted her fully against him, cradling her under her ass as she looped her arms around his neck, not willing to let the kiss end. Finally he pulled back from the kiss with a breathless laugh she could feel down to her toes. “Let’s finish this dance somewhere a little more private.”

Kenna nodded, and instead of letting her drop to her feet, Bash drew her fully into his arms, catching her under her knees. He walked them back to their rooms, his eyes on her, only her, the entire time. Without setting her down, he opened the heavy wooden door, his muscles flexing under her fingers. She dug her nails in a little, and relished the shiver that went through her husband’s shoulders.

As he kicked the door closed behind them, his mouth descended again, and Kenna pulled Bash closer, ready to begin a dance of a whole new kind.


End file.
